


Silver In Your Smile

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Are you saying you don’t want to take sexy photos of me?  For those long, lonely nights when I’m not with you?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I didn’t say that.”</i>
</p><p>part of <a href="http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">Trope Bingo</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver In Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

> so there's [this nsfw photo](http://25.media.tumblr.com/ac95fb7aae34512895da1517fd6045ff/tumblr_mqvh9ostIc1sqhla5o1_500.jpg) that floated around tumblr with everyone suggesting it looks like Stiles/Dylan. this is the result of that.
> 
> with thanks to BK for encouraging this.
> 
> trope: Indecent Proposal
> 
> title from The Libertines - Skint and Minted

Derek finds the camera in a box of things that the previous tenants left behind. It’s film, not that old and Derek likes the feel of it in his hands. It looks like it was expensive; there are lenses in the box and it’s got a leather case. He spares a moment to wonder why they left it behind, if maybe they’ll be coming back for it. It’s doubtful, most people who leave Beacon Hills leave for a good reason and don’t bother coming back.

There’s a small shop in Beacon Hills that looks it over for him, tells him it’s okay and then gouges his wallet by selling him film and supplies for a darkroom. Derek shifts the chemicals into the trunk of his car, eyeing them suspiciously and hoping they won’t explode before he gets them home.

He has a house now, big enough for everyone to hang out. Big enough for Stiles to possibly move in with him after he gets his undergrad degree. They’ve purposefully not talked about it, but Stiles was there when he went looking, holding onto his arm and pointing out things like where the sun would rise, and the distance between bedrooms in case people stayed over. Derek ended up picking the house that had a window seat, because it lured Stiles in like catnip and each time he’s there he curls up on it, belly turned to the sun that pours through the windows.

*

“What have you done to that room?” Stiles asks, idly kicking a cushion in the air with his feet as he lies on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“Which room?” Derek responds, lifting Stiles’ legs up as he sits down.

“The room that now has a lock on it,” Stiles says as Derek reaches over to grab the pizza box from the coffee table. “Is it kinky? Did you get a sex room while I was away?”

“I thought every room in the house was a sex room,” says Derek, handing Stiles a slice.

“Damn straight,” Stiles smirks proudly. “So what is it?”

Derek shrugs, chewing on a bite, tapping his fingers against Stiles’ knee. “It’s a darkroom.”

“For photography?”

“No, I’m keeping birds in there and making sure they never wake up.”

Poking his tongue out at Derek, Stiles rolls his eyes. “You could do that, I don’t know what you do when I’m at school.”

“It’s for photography.”

“Oh.”

Derek can feel Stiles watching him as they finish the pizza. It’s not a new thing, Stiles often stares at Derek when he has the chance, says it’s payback for all the lurking Derek used to do. Derek is sure Stiles only says it to make Derek’s cheeks flush, which is proven whenever Stiles crawls onto Derek’s lap and kisses his heated skin.

“Can I see what you’ve taken photos of?” Stiles asks later, his head in Derek’s lap as he plays on his 3DS.

“They’re not that interesting.”

Stiles puts the console down and glares up at Derek. “They’re how you see the world. I want to see that.”

“Okay,” Derek says, tangling a hand in Stiles’ hair. “Okay.”

*

Derek doesn’t like the itchy feeling underneath his skin before he shows Stiles his photos. He _knows_ Stiles won’t laugh at him, but this is somehow more intimate than the nights they spend naked and tangled around each other. Part of him wants to leave the photos on the bedside table before Stiles wakes up and go out, let Stiles look at them alone, but he knows Stiles will just wait for him to come back.

“Hey,” Stiles says, coming up behind Derek in the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Derek’s middle. “If you don’t want me to see—”

“I do.” Derek nods at the table. “They’re over there.”

Stiles slips away from Derek and sits at the table, his long fingers delicately handling the photos by the edges. It’s quiet in the house, Derek can hear the rumble of the cars outside, the one gurgling pipe that he still needs to track down and fix, and the steady, familiar beating of Stiles’ heart.

“Oh,” Stiles says as he looks at a photo. “You—when did you take this?” He turns around, holding the photo up so Derek can see. It’s of the Sheriff and Stiles, they’re outside the station and leaning against the cruiser. Derek remembers taking it; he’d been coming to meet them for lunch and had heard them laughing, voices carrying in the air. They’d looked _happy_ and Derek’s fingers had ached to capture that. He’d quickly ducked into the car for his camera and snapped some shots off before heading over.

“Last time you were down,” Derek says, taking the photo from Stiles. “You both looked happy. I was going to frame it, give it to your dad for Christmas.”

“Sappywolf,” Stiles grins at him. “He’d love that.”

Derek puts the photo back in the pile and leans down, kissing Stiles’ forehead. “You like them?”

“Dude, they’re awesome.” Stiles tilts his head back to gaze at Derek. “Seriously, is this what you’ve been doing while I’ve been at school? Putting your natural creeper skills to good use?”

“I don’t have natural creeper skills,” Derek grumbles, sinking to the floor and resting his head on Stiles’ thigh.

“Yeah you do,” Stiles says, placing a hand on Derek’s head and playing with his hair. “It’s cute that you think you don’t, but you really do.”

Stiles’ fingers are soothing on Derek’s scalp and Derek finds his eyes closing slightly. “Stop that. M’gonna fall asleep.”

“You’ve barely been awake three hours.”

“Your hands are nice.”

Laughing, Stiles removes his hand and taps a finger against Derek’s nose. “Does anyone else know?”

“Know what?”

“About your photography.”

Derek smoothly gets to his feet and shakes his head, walking towards the fridge to grab some cold water. “Only you.”

“Have you—do you want to take photos of the pack?”

“I can’t. Their eyes,” Derek shrugs. “They wouldn’t come out.”

Stiles rubs a hand against his chin and frowns. “There must be a kind of lens that would filter that out, right? If we looked into it—”

“We?”

“Yes, dumbass, we.” Stiles gets up and crowds Derek against the counter, his hands slipping underneath Derek’s shirt. “If you haven’t realised by now that I’m right beside you in everything you choose to do, you’re an idiot.”

Derek ducks his head and lets out a low chuckle. “I didn’t mean. I _know_ you’re with me, Stiles.”

“Good,” Stiles tips Derek’s chin up with a finger. “Until we find a lens, you can always take photos of me,” he says with the kind of grin that makes Derek want to tackle him to the ground.

“I could,” Derek says, his hands going around Stiles’ waist and pulling him flush against his body.

“And you develop them yourself.”

“I do.”

“So,” Stiles says, brushing his lips against Derek’s cheek before kissing the corner of Derek’s mouth. “They could be sexy pictures.”

Derek smirks, turning his head slightly to meet Stiles’ lips. “Of course that’s where your mind goes,” he mumbles against Stiles’ mouth, tongue slipping out to wet his lips.

“Are you saying you don’t want to take sexy photos of me? For those long, lonely nights when I’m not with you?”

“I didn’t say that.” Derek’s skin is heating up with Stiles so close. He can feel the brush of Stiles’ eyelashes, the heavy weight of Stiles’ thigh up against his crotch, and his hands desperately clutch at Stiles’ back as their mouths meet. Stiles’ fingers press marks into Derek’s skin and Derek whines a little at the knowledge that they won’t stay, that they’re already fading. Hungrily dipping his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, Derek slides his hands down to grab at Stiles’ ass, hauling him closer until he can feel Stiles’ ribcage move against his with each breath.

“So,” Stiles says, a little breathlessly. “You’re okay with that?”

Derek laughs, brushing their noses together and sucking Stiles’ bottom lip into his mouth, taking pleasure in the way Stiles’ eyes glaze over. He bites lightly before letting go, his fingers grazing against the hot skin above Stiles’ waistband. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m okay with that.”

*

When Derek steps into the bathroom, he almost drops the camera. He’s seen Stiles wet before; there have been many, many times when they’ve showered with the intention to clean up, and it’s ended up in frantic hand jobs to burn off the energy pulsing through the veins, but this. Derek’s never seen Stiles so _wanton_. Long limbs spread out in the tub they rarely use, drops of water falling down his face where Stiles has obviously dunked his head, wet hair plastered against his forehead.

“Hi,” Stiles says with a grin. “You planning on doing something with that?”

“You—fuck. _Stiles_.”

Stiles shifts in the bath, water splashing over the side as he leans against the edge. “Like what you see?” he says in a low voice, fluttering his eyelashes, and that—that shouldn’t get Derek hot. It’s so borderline ridiculous that Derek is judging himself for the way his cock stirs at the sight, how his skin heats up in the already warm bathroom.

“Stop that,” he says. “Or else we won’t be doing photos.”

“Spoilsport,” Stiles says, pouting slightly before his face splits into a wide grin. He sinks backwards into the water, hooking his legs over the edge of the tub. “You look really hot with that camera.”

Derek smirks to himself as he tears his eyes away from Stiles’ legs. Fiddling with the camera, he holds it up and aims the lens at Stiles, ignoring his squawks about not being ready. There’s some flailing limbs, a little splashing and Derek knows there’ll be some blurring when he develops the film, but that’s _Stiles_ and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Still, he lets out a sigh when he lowers the camera. “Are you going to stay still for this?”

“If you’d give me a moment to prepare, instead of ambushing me—”

“Yes, Stiles, standing in the room with a camera in my hands was an ambush.”

Stiles chews on his lips, sliding around until he’s on his front, sticking his ass up in the air and Derek can’t help the harsh intake of breath at the sight. He knows Stiles hears him, shooting him a look over his shoulder, smug smirk evident on his face and Derek holds his free hand up in surrender.

“This good for you?” Stiles asks, his hands gripping the edge of the tub, legs lazily floating behind him, water sliding over his ass.

“Yeah, but—”

“What?”

“Flip it. Move to the other edge, so I can—”

“Get a better view of my ass?” Stiles says as he moves. “Kinky.”

“This was your idea,” Derek mutters as he switches the lenses out.

“You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” Derek catches Stiles’ eye when he looks up and grins, slow and easy. “Now shut up.” Stiles makes like he’s zipping his lips and turns his head back around, idly kicking his feet in the water, little droplets of water splashing out of the bath. It’s almost cute, and Derek manages to get a few shots off before he reaches a hand out and stills Stiles’ legs. “Hold still,” he says, and Stiles turns his head slightly, meets Derek’s eyes and nods once. “Push your hips up.” Derek’s voice is slightly hoarse and there’s a slight smirk on Stiles’ face that Derek ignores.

Stiles crawls forward a little, his elbows resting on the edge of the tub and the water runs down his back as he pushes himself up. He spreads his legs without prompting, and Derek bites his lip, his cock getting harder as his eyes trail down Stiles’ body. Derek hides behind the camera, watches Stiles through the lens and ignores the urge to touch. It’s not easy—Stiles keeps letting out these _noises_ whenever he moves—Derek can see Stiles’ half hard cock, his balls heavy between his legs and it’s taking all of Derek’s control not to put the camera down and yank Stiles out of the bath.

The bathroom lights play against the sheen of water on Stiles’ skin, there’s heat in the air and Derek pushes what he’s feeling to the back of his mind so he can concentrate on getting the shots.

“You’re being quiet,” Stiles says.

“And you’re meant to be being quiet.”

“That’s no fun,” Stiles says. “You like me when I’m loud.”

“Stiles—” Derek huffs and shakes his head. “Turn over.”

“Going full frontal? Interesting.”

“I’m indulging your exhibitionist side,” Derek smirks.

“What?” Stiles splashes his arms in the water. “I don’t—” He stops talking when Derek raises an eyebrow. “Fine.”

“Touch yourself,” Derek says. “Get yourself hard.”

“Derek, I—”

“Do it.”

“I’m seeing a whole new side to you,” Stiles says, lazily wrapping a hand around his cock. He tips his head backwards and spreads his legs, canting his hips up as he strokes himself. Keeping his eyes fixed on Derek, Stiles jerks himself off expertly, his free hand gripping the side of the tub. “If I drown doing this, you’d better save me.”

“You close?” Derek asks, bringing the camera up to his face. “I’m almost out of film.”

“Because—fuck—we wouldn’t want _that_ to happen, would we?” Stiles says, biting down on his bottom lip. His breathing speeds up, and Derek knows Stiles is almost there, knows that it’ll only take a few more strokes, a twist of his wrist and—fuck.

Derek watches through the viewfinder, listens to the thumping of Stiles’ heart, and his finger is sweaty on the button, hoping he doesn’t miss it. “Keep going,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Not, hah, not a problem— _oh_ ,” Stiles gasps out, and Derek watches him come, capturing it on film forever.

He keeps taking photos until he runs out of film, capturing the flush on Stiles’ skin, the way Stiles’ limbs go boneless and the drops of come still floating on the surface. Putting the camera on the shelf behind the toilet, Derek slides his arms into the water and touches each bit of Stiles’ skin he can reach as he hauls him up until they’re kissing.

Stiles’ arms wrap around Derek’s neck, water splashing over the side of the tub, soaking the fabric of Derek’s shirt. “Out,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips. “Get me out.”

They tip backwards, Derek managing to balance them enough so he doesn’t smack his head on the floor, and then Stiles is on top of him, his eyes wide with joy as he slides his hands underneath Derek’s shirt. Derek groans as Stiles pushes his shirt up, his fingers teasing at Derek’s nipples and there’s a wicked grin on Stiles’ face before he ducks his head down and swirls his tongue around Derek’s navel. It sends a jolt straight to Derek’s cock and his hips buck, almost dislodging Stiles from his legs.

Placing a kiss above the waistband of Derek’s jeans, Stiles’ fingers deftly undo Derek’s fly, and he raises an eyebrow when he realises Derek’s going commando. “You expecting to get some today, Hale?”

“Odds seem good,” Derek says as Stiles’ damp hand wraps around his cock and strokes him a few times, foreskin sliding back and forth under his ministrations.

“You’re optimistic,” Stiles grins as he wriggles his way down Derek’s body until he’s eye level with Derek’s cock.

Derek pushes himself up on his elbows to watch Stiles, biting his lip when Stiles uses his tongue to tease, playing with Derek’s foreskin and licking at the pre-come that leaks out of the slit. His mouth is hot, wet, and like the best kind of sin, and it’s taking all Derek has not to shoot off embarrassingly early. Stiles is still naked, the humidity in the room keeping his skin soft, and Derek’s eyes dart all over Stiles’ body as he loses himself to the feel of Stiles’ mouth around him.

When Derek’s eyes flutter shut, visions of Stiles in the tub invade his mind and he squirms as his body floods with a familiar heat. He manages to stutter out a warning for Stiles before he’s coming, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

Derek’s dimly aware of Stiles cleaning him up, of Stiles crawling up his body until he’s settled in Derek’s lap and dotting kisses across Derek’s face. Curling his arms around Stiles, Derek shuffles forward until he’s sitting up properly, his hands absently tracing patterns between the moles on Stiles’ back, enjoying the unfettered access to Stiles’ skin. There’s a soft smile on his face as Stiles’ long fingers trace down Derek’s nose, rubbing against his stubble before pressing his fingertips gently against Derek’s mouth.

“We’ve got to get off the floor at some point,” Derek says quietly, his tongue licking at Stiles’ fingers, still able to taste himself faintly on them.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Yeah. Just—give me a minute.”

Derek nods, would happily give Stiles all the time in the world as long as he gets to keep Stiles with him, like this, for as long as possible.

*

“Holy shit, Derek,” Stiles says, his eyes wide as he goes through the photos Derek took.

“You like them?” Derek asks, one arm around Stiles’ shoulder, fingers grazing against his skin.

“They’re amazing.” Stiles turns his head and kisses Derek quickly, a brief press of their lips that leaves Derek wanting more. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Says the person who sleeps in one of my shirts when I’m at school.”

“Shut up,” Derek says, his face flushing a deep red. “What do you want to do with the photos?”

“We could put one up?” Stiles says, kissing Derek’s red cheek.

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles and holds up one of the photos. “You want this photo of you gripping your cock to go up on our wall?”

“Maybe not that one,” Stiles says with a smirk. “But one of the others. And it’s not like I’m suggesting it goes in the hallway,” he says, nestling his head against Derek’s shoulder. “It could go in our bedroom.”

“Our bedroom,” Derek says slowly, his hand gripping Stiles’ knee.

“Like I’m not moving in after I graduate?” Stiles says, taking Derek’s hand and threading their fingers together. He presses his face against Derek’s neck and nuzzles, brushing his lips against Derek’s skin.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_. You can’t get rid of me, Hale.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Derek says quietly, hauling Stiles onto his lap, savouring the solid weight of him. Cupping Stiles’ face with one hand, he brings their mouths together in a deep kiss, warmth spreading through him at how easily their bodies for together.

“Hey,” Stiles says when he pulls away. “When we’ve worked out the filter thing, we should do a set of you jerking off.”

Derek’s chest rumbles at the idea of Stiles using his camera, at being so vulnerable in front of him, at being the focus of Stiles’ attention like that. “Yeah,” he says, brushing their lips together, Stiles’ arms circling around his neck. “We should do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://likeairplanelights.tumblr.com/).


End file.
